Well Done, Good & Faithful Son

I save memories. That is the main reason that I write. Recently, I came across this story which I wrote in college in English 101. The year was 1988. After I had finished with it, I read it aloud to my firstborn son. His reaction? He crossed his arms over his body and gave himself a huge hug and smiled the biggest smile and then came and gave me a hug, too. A mother never forgets those hugs.

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My Tiny Miracle

I was barely nineteen and quite unprepared to meet him. But he came just the same. In fact, he arrived almost a month earlier than I had expected. Regardless of the timing, I am glad that he and I met. For he is my firstborn, and because of him, my life changed forever.

Some memories can never be erased; like the first moment that my son and I shared alone together. It was altogether a strange and wonderful feeling to hold such a small, warm bundle of pink flesh in my arms, and to realize all at once and much too suddenly, that this, my tiny miracle, was earthbound because I had willed him to be.

Holding him, with this thought in mind, I felt almost guilty; guilty of robbing the gardens of Heaven of such a sweet bud. Looking down upon so peaceful a sleeping face, I wanted to cry. I felt very selfish for taking him from the arms of Jesus. I wondered how I could have been so thoughtless and cruel, for I knew that I had brought him into a world where many tears were too often shed. I looked for forgiveness in his little eyes of blue, now open wide, and what I found was comfort. He seemed to understand and have compassion for me. It was almost as if he still possessed a great wisdom from above. He seemed to be telling me that he, himself, had chosen to accept this mission on earth, and to trust God, for it was His will that he had come.

As his eyes searched my face, they pleaded with me to accept my fate as well. I had been entrusted with the duty of training, guiding, preparing, and keeping one of God's own precious souls. On that day, I promised my child and my God that it would be so. I realized, that as time stole past, he, in his new fleshly form, would soon forget his mission, but I must never forget mine. And then I tenderly kissed his soft, dimpled cheek.

I recalled a scripture that I had once read and not understood. It said, "Rejoice at death and weep at birth." As my baby's whole tiny hand clung ever so tightly around my my smallest finger, I no longer had trouble comprehending those words. I solemnly vowed to protect him from as many hurts as I possibly could. His grip echoed a sound belief in my abilities. In fact, his trust in me made me believe in myself, also.

I drank in all the love that my wonderful little miracle so silently offered me; and in exchange, I denied him none of my trembling heart. It was at that same moment that he was "freed" from all his burdens of wisdom, and henceforth, was happy just to be "my baby."

On that day, fifteen years ago, my baby not only quieted my fears, but he also gave my life true meaning and direction. He only weighed a bit over five pounds when he arrived, but he brought me "tons" of profound lessons. Because of him, I am stronger, wiser, and so much richer. I can truly say that I have been blessed.

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His mission ended on September 2, 2025. My life was unbelievably blessed to have his love and support, his undying belief in me for 52 wonderful years. Now he is back where he belongs, wearing the crown that Jesus gave him for doing such a wonderful job on earth. He is truly free to live happily ever after and forever! This mom is eternally grateful...

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“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day.” – 2 Timothy 4:7-8